A Time of Dragons
by frankannestein
Summary: According to the White Materia, Princess Shadow's Wyrd, her destiny, lies in the far western lands beyond the sea. The prophecy states that the world will end in ice, fire, and darkness by three ancient spirits unless her brother, Cloud, king of Midgar, can fulfill his geis to avenge their parents. Crossover: FFVII and the Deverry Cycle. Extremely AU, OC, Adventure.
1. Chapter 1, Part 1

I owe you nothing.

I've given everything and more.

I stand for something.

The blood on my hands, the broken bones, I live it.

Knife in my back, you can't take it back.

Eye for an eye is cut and dry.

I'll do what I know, reap what I sow,

While you're waiting for me to fail.

If I fall, if I fall,

I'm dragging everybody down.

If I fall I will take everybody down.

I'm not a voice of reason.

Never been too big on fate.

Seeing is believing.

You run from it all, you stumble and crawl, I hate it.

Knife in your back, I won't take it back.

Live and let die, the art of a lie.

You do what you know, you reap what you sow.

I'll be waiting for you to fail.

If I fall, fuck you all,

I'm taking everybody out.

If I fall I will take everybody down.

If I fall, I will.

_~ Five Finger Death Punch_

_"If I Fall"_

_American Capitalist, 2011_

* * *

_**A/N**: I don't know why, but this song, inelegant though it is, always makes me think of Sephiroth. :3_

* * *

A Time of Dragons

A FFVII / Deverry Cycle Fanfic

_Final Fantasy VII _in its entirety © **Square Enix**

_Deverry Cycle_ novels by Katharine Kerr © **Bantam Books**

[Cloud, Tifa], [Zack, Aerith], Yuffie, Cid, Reno, Rude, Sephiroth, [Genesis, OC], Angeal, Jenova, Cissnei

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_**A/N2**: Greetings, Dear Readers! Thank you so much for taking a chance on this story. :3 It's my first-ever attempt at a crossover fic. Before you get started, let me just say, that I think of this project as something similar to what CLAMP did with Reservoir Chronicle Tsubasa. Many of these characters you already know and love, but in this story, they were raised in a different world under different circumstances. They are the same, and not the same. I did my best to keep everyone in character, though it is told from the POV of my OC, Shadow Strife._

_And without further ado, I give you A Time of Dragons._

* * *

**_I_**

"_Sephiroth_!"

The cry ripped through the smoky air, throbbing with pain and fury. Cloud choked, sounding as if he was in tears – but that was impossible, for he was a man and a prince born of Midgar; he drew breath again. "Sephiroth! _Stop_!"

The city was burning. Shadow ducked as a wall, its integrity crumbling, tilted and collapsed right in front of her like a drunkard out of a tavern. Sparks and ash swirled up through the air, getting in her eyes, her mouth. Blinking rapidly, she squinted through the billows of smoke.

It was strange. Firelight, to her mind, was a bright thing, yellow and homey. Even bonfires shed enough light to read by.

But this conflagration was so big, so hot, and so hungry, that it was an ugly red. It swallowed the light whole, spewing forth nothing but foul-smelling darkness. It roared and fumed, louder than anything she had ever imagined, the heat scorching her skin and her lungs. How many of their people had been trapped in their homes and shops? And how many had managed to escape, only to find Hades waiting for them in the fiery streets? As she watched, Sephiroth raised Masamune, its blade coated in blood and firelight, and cut another unarmed man down. Shadow's stomach curled.

By all the ice in all the hells, her brother had gone insane. There was no other explanation for his actions, but they couldn't reach him to stop him. Drenched in sweat, swords drawn but bloodless, Shadow and Cloud rushed after him, only to be repelled time and again by the raging flames.

"This is no natural fire. It must be dweomer," Zack shouted, shielding his face with an arm. He appeared from the south, his uniform smeared with soot.

"Genesis." Shadow spat the name of her betrothed as an epithet, realization running like acid through her veins, and Zack grimly nodded. So, Genesis had thrown his lot in with the kingslayer. No one could magic a fire this impassable but for him, the sly-tongued fox.

Betrayal, hot and sour, rose up in the back of her throat like bile. Had she truly meant so little to him?

"Sephiroth!" Cloud screamed, beside himself.

"This is madness!" Zack yelled. He reached for their brother, attempted to drag him away. "Fall back, damn you!"

But Cloud was beyond hearing. "_Sephiroth_!"

Sephiroth paid him no mind. He smirked at them through the wall of fire, green eyes glowing with the mako that was their heritage, his long, silver hair rising on waves of heat. He then turned and walked into the flames, the Wolf King's jeweled crown glinting in the crimson light, kept in place by Sephiroth's gloved fingers entwined in the king's hair, which was the same aged silver. Fenrir Strife's mouth hung slack, the beard slicked with slime and gore, the eyes rolled up and shining white like hard-cooked eggs.

Shadow didn't know when she started crying, but her grief felt like a living thing, clawing at her breastbone, tearing the skin of her face. She gasped over shuddering sobs. How could her brother commit such an act against the goddess? What madness had wormed its way into his heart?

How could he murder his own father?

After a hysterical moment, she forced herself to admit that these were queries that had no correct answer and were therefore pointless to dwell upon. She then held fast her breath to stifle the unseemly sobs. Meanwhile, her other brothers were arguing.

"You don't know where he's going –"

"I _know_ where he's going. The temple."

"You don't know that!" Zack shouted.

Cloud's voice was raw and rough. "I do, Brother. He has the Black Materia. You know it as well as me."

"So you're going to chase him like a cat after string?" Zack snatched a fistful of Cloud's collar and shook him, lifting him so that they were eye to glowing eye. "Think! We can't just go running through that. There are people here who need help, you thrice-blasted dolt!"

Cloud did not respond, teeth clenched, one hand supporting his weight on Zack's wrist, the other angling Fusion's edge away from their legs. Fusion consisted of separate swords, six in all, that combined to form one gargantuan blade of Cloud's own design, based on their father's famous Buster Sword. In his infuriated grasp, Fusion was shaking, its grooved blade throwing shards of firelight back at the flames.

Shadow watched the play of light as if she couldn't help herself. In spite of the roaring heat, she felt a slide of ice down her back, as though a cold, clammy hand had caressed her spine. A dweomer-warning she wasn't given time to express.

"Oy!" someone called. "You kids had better be sane!"

"Old man!" Zack dropped Cloud with a warning glare and then ran to meet Zangan, his martial arts master, who was carrying an unconscious man on his back. "Like we could stay sane in a situation like this," he darkly added. "The warbands are scattered, but this is too much for them to handle. No one knows what's what, and without the good General . . ." He trailed off, at a loss for words.

"General Sephiroth did this, didn't he?" Zangan asked in his deep, bearlike voice.

"This is too cruel, Seph," Zack murmured brokenly, his hand on the injured man's shoulder. Mako flowed between them, healing and revitalizing, but Zack couldn't possibly revive all who had fallen. None of them could, not even Lady Aerith. The Lifestream must have been overflowing its banks from the influx of newly dead spirits. Zack bowed his head. "What happened to you, my brother?"

"People call him a hero, but he's nothing but a homicidal maniac. Him and those friends of his," Zangan rumbled. An oath.

The dweomer-warning chilled her again, and Shadow tightened her hand on Yoshiyuki's hilt, aware of her tear-streaked countenance, the grief that thickened her voice. "He is our royal brother, Master Zangan. Show some respect."

The fact that the warlord prince had been carrying the dual trophies of his father's head and crown lay heavy between all of them, like a giant, grinning spider demon crouched atop the banquet table with its bristly claws buried in all the dishes, but no one dared say it.

"I saw Commander Rhapsodos with him, and it wasn't hypnosis that put him there," the weapons master said stubbornly, proving his point. There was nothing but pity in his beetle-black eyes, but when Shadow showed no surprise at this news, he lowered his gray head and said into his beard, "My apologies, Princess. I meant no disrespect to you."

"Cloud!" Zack blurted.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Cloud had darted to the left, out of Zack's reach. In a blur, he sprinted to the steps that would take him to the upper city, a roundabout way to reach the Jade Temple of Mt. Nibel, and cleared them three at a time.

"Little fool!" Zack snarled, his hands flying to his head. "_Cloud_! You thick-skulled, mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging, hairy pile of horseshit, _I am going to bash your brains in_!"

"Stay," Shadow sharply said. "He's not going to listen to you. You know that. I will go. Master Zangan, get the people out. Find the soldiers, organize a water line. We must save our people, our city. Please, Zack. Stay and help."

For one long, agonizing moment, Zack stared at her, the fire-wind ruffling his spiky black hair, his irises glowing bluer than sapphires before a candle. Finally, he nodded. "I'll be right there. Save some fun for me."

"Not a chance!" she yelled, already calling upon the spirits of the Lifestream to help her. With the energies of earth and air, she entered a thousand-step run, covering ground at a rate comparable to a horse at full gallop. Up the steps, through the streets of carnage, toward the peak of the cold, gray, snowy mountain that held the city of Midgar on its imposing flanks.

"Cloud!" she screamed, emerging at last in the eerie green mist that shrouded the Jade Temple. "Big Brother! Where are you?"

Nothing but her own voice answered, echoing in the night. It was hard to see past the gloom, for the green-gray smoke clouds cloaked the stars, but she followed the urging of the Lifestream and the icy breath of dweomer into the temple itself.

Inside, it was just as empty and still. She glimpsed figures in priestly robes slumped in the corners like forgotten piles of laundry. Moon and Stars above, had Sephiroth slaughtered them all? Beyond the altar, she noted, the door to the inner sanctum was closed. It exuded more of the green mist. Warily, trying to watch everywhere at once as if expecting one of those huddled, bloodied figures to rise and attack, she mounted the broad, half-moon stairs toward the sanctum.

She heard his step a second before she saw him. Their swords flashed and rang against each other in the still air.

"You're too late, beloved," Genesis said in his smooth, sardonic voice. Blue eyes that shimmered like sunlight on water smiled at her through the black hair that fell across his forehead. A single pendant earring swung from his left earlobe.

"You!" Shadow rushed him, meaning to cleave his worthless head from his shoulders and take back the mako that Father had granted him along with her troth.

Quick as a striking snake, Genesis's hand shot out and seized her wrists, deflecting her blade. He lifted her clear of the floor as easily as though she were a doll, and then twisted Yoshiyuki out of her grasp.

"_How could you_?" she seethed, dangling but far from helpless. "The people. My parents –!"

She lifted a boot, fully intending to kick the lying son of a whore in the face, but he flung her from him almost lazily. She soared half the length of the outer room, and then she twisted in midair, orienting herself. The landing wasn't as neat as she'd have liked; she skidded a few feet on one knee before arresting her momentum. Instantly, she sprang up and launched herself at the tall, red-coated figure at the top of the stairs.

"'When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end / the Goddess descends from the sky,'" Genesis said, spreading his arms, Yoshiyuki in his left hand and Rapier, his crimson-bladed sword, in the right. Blocking the way to where Cloud and Sephiroth had surely gone. "'Wings of light and dark spread afar / she guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting.'"

Rage boiled within Shadow's heart. She knew those lines. Once, she would have listened to him read them forever. "You would quote a poem instead of answering to justice?" she shrieked, only a few steps away with murder on her mind. "Get out of my way!"

Genesis threw back his head, his eyes cold, his face haughty. "You're too late," he repeated.

Out of nowhere, another man appeared in her path. There was no way to avoid him, no space in which to block, so intent had she been on Commander Rhapsodos. She had just enough time to register Angeal Hewley's grim, apologetic face before his mako-infused fist collided with the side of her head and everything went white.

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_**A/N3: **Ta da! I'm so excited. What do you think?  
_

_I acknowledge that much of my inspiration for this first chapter comes from the scenes of Sephiroth destroying Nibelheim in "Last Order." Things are skewed and switched around, but you get the idea._

_So. Same and not the same, right? I had fun picking out FFVII lore to create this world, which is in the Deverry universe (but not in Deverry itself . . . yet). I put in many details that I hope fans of FFVII will notice and smile at (rather than groan at, but if I made you groan, please let me know! Heck, if I made you SMILE let me know.)._

_All right, I'd better stop talking about it now before I give anything away! :3 *so giddy*_

_I got the - motivation? courage? - to finally write and post this story (which has been rattling around in my head since 2009) after reading another FFVII crossover fanfic, "Looper" by chaos-entropy. Have you checked it out? It's good. Go read it. It's only one chapter so far, and I'm hoping it will continue._

_Lastly, the cover art image for this story is "Earth Dragon" by Peter Pracownik._

_Please, please, please review! I love reviews. Seriously. They're like candy. :3 Thank you for reading!_

_Yours,_

_Anne_


	2. Chapter 1, Part 2

Sephiroth, a kingslayer. Genesis and Angeal, traitors. Midgar in flames. Everywhere, death, destruction, and chaos. When had this madness started?

No direct reply, but the Lifestream surged. Considering.

Shadow groaned. Ah. She still had lungs, a throat. A fierce headache. Where was she?

This time, the answer came on the heels of the question: lying at the foot of the sanctum stairs inside the Jade Temple.

Cold marble pressed into her cheek, gritty and smelling of dirt. It didn't feel like anything was broken, but, so close to the Lifestream where it had breached the planet's crust two millennia ago, she wallowed in the grip of her dweomer and could not wake.

..::~*~::..

The kings and queens of Midgar were Jenova's blessed revenants.

"Jenova," Mother said, smiling in her gentle way. "She is called the Calamity from the Skies."

Shadow did not smile back at her. Lucrecia Strife, her mother, was dead. Shadow had watched her die. Was this, then, a memory?

Shadow recognized Mother's favorite reading room more by the smell than sight, although she did have fleeting impressions of gleaming wooden floors, paintings of tigers, tortoises, phoenixes, and lizards prancing across the walls and sliding doors, robed maidservants laying out the things for tea on a low table. The surroundings were too ordinary for someone who had grown up in the castle to pay attention to, but Mother's room faced the orchards. When the breeze and season coincided, the whole room smelled of apple blossom.

Mother curled her legs under her to settle on her cushion. Her slender body was draped in many, layered kimonos, her dark hair spilling loose down her back to pool on the hardwood. Wearing her dirty black uniform, Shadow knelt on a second cushion next to Mother like an inkblot, a living shade in this room of light and color.

So. This was more than a memory. She was a transplant of the present day, eighteen-year-old Shadow where her younger self had once existed. But what purpose did this serve?

Mother's eyes, green as Sephiroth's but not as bright, did not quite meet Shadow's, fixed several inches downward where a child's eyes would be. Shadow did not mention it. She curled her gloved fists on her thighs and waited for her dweomer to get to the point.

In spite of the many decades she had been queen, Mother looked not a day over twenty and was still hailed as the most beautiful woman on the Gaean Islands. Pale pink hands, soft as apple blossoms, arranged the book in her lap so that her daughter could see it.

An illustration spread across two pages, depicting a giant, lopsided sphere of barren rock which streamed a ragged tail of ice, electricity, and shattered earth as it plummeted toward a small planet and tiny moon spinning all by themselves in the heavens. It was a familiar image. Similar scrolls of painted silk graced the walls of the Jade Temple.

This was the Advent of the Goddess. The Calamity from the Skies.

"If she's a goddess, then why is she called a calamity?" Shadow asked, right on cue, although she already knew. The dweomer wanted her to ask, so she did.

"Jenova was the last of her kind," Mother explained in her breathy, little-girl voice. It struck present-day Shadow then how much Lucrecia resembled her eldest son. They shared the same long face, the same faint freckles across their noses, the same middle-parted hair that grew thicker in the front. They spoke with the same cadences. "Seeking the aid of the Great Ones, Jenova rode the remains of her home planet through the astral planes. Near death as she was, she could not maintain her course through the etheric, nor avoid our planet on the physical. She crashed into it, leaving a great and terrible scar. To heal itself, the planet gathered vast amounts of Lifestream to the crater. There, it communed with the alien. It told her of the lives lost across the globe, the flora that had suffocated under the clouds of earth and ash the meteor had thrown into the atmosphere, the fauna freezing and starving to death beneath an unending winter. And of its youngest children, the first humans, which it mourned most highly."

"So Jenova, regretting what she had done, gave herself to the Lifestream. She chose to gift her remains to a king who had worked the hardest to keep what was left of his people and all plants and animals alive," Shadow finished in a monotone, but Mother smiled as if she had heard the eager-to-please voice of her youngest child.

"That is correct, sweet one," she said, duly pleased. "She became one with his blood, and the blood of his children, and their children, forever after, creating new, enhanced humans. The Cetra. Like her, the kings of Midgar live through countless lifetimes, can command the spirits, are powerful sorcerers. Like you, Shadow. The Cetra live on in you."

Shadow listened impassively, remembering but not reliving the pride that had swelled within her that day. To be a revenant of Jenova came with far greater responsibilities than she could have understood at so tender an age.

Her mother had known. "However, Jenova was not the only life clinging to what was left of her planet," she said quietly.

She turned the page.

..::~*~::..

"Is it a portent?" An anxious voice, instantly shushed.

"Perhaps," another whispered. "The Cetra find it difficult to conceive, for good reason, but the queen is once again with child."

"Fenrir Wolf King has sired four children. It is unheard of."

Her mother and the scent of apple blossoms were gone. Shadow stood and turned toward the voices, although she could see nothing yet. The dweomer was like that, sometimes, focusing on a single sense of perception at a time.

Two priests, draped in white and jade robes that fell past their hands and feet, wearing white hats on their bound black hair, glided by her without seeing her. Their slippers trod on nothing, the light came from nowhere. Shadow frowned at this oddity, and then sighed. Fine, then. These men weren't the focus of the memory. When the priests stopped, she looked where they did.

It appeared from the non-dark of the ether: sunlight shining through a closed sliding paper door. Wooden slats intersected horizontally and vertically, black against the soft glow. Three silhouettes bloomed upon the squares of paper.

Two small boys met, clashed, and leaped apart, laughing, gasping.

"Almost got you, Cloud!"

"That's not fair, Zack!" Cloud whined, barely out of babyhood. He swung his wooden sword, missed, and received a _thwack_ on the shoulder for his trouble. He staggered, sounding near tears. "You're bigger than me!"

The older boy crowed. "You must defeat your opponent no matter who he be, whether bigger, or faster, or stronger," he declared, fist on his hip, his unruly hair sticking up in tufts and spikes, and then he looked up. "Right, Seph?"

The third silhouette was tall, over six feet, broad of shoulder and narrow of waist, a man grown.

With a jolt, Shadow realized she was seeing a memory from before her birth. How could she _remember_ this? As far as she could tell, her mother wasn't even present. Then the dweomer prodded her with icy fingers, displeased with her distraction.

As if he'd been waiting for her to listen, Sephiroth chuckled. It was a sound of affection, one that she remembered hearing from the man who was her brother. But it had been many years since she'd last earned even a smile from him, time enough for his hair to lighten from glossy black to polished silver. "Correct."

Immediately, the light dimmed, and the silhouettes vanished.

"So long between children," one of the priests muttered while her vision faded. His disembodied voice drifted to her through the ether. "General Sephiroth has led his father's armies for ninety-two winters. And now his queen mother has given him three siblings, within three years of each other. What is Jenova thinking?"

"It is a portent," the younger priest said darkly, making a sign of warding.

Then it all went black.

..::~*~::..

"Shadow? Shadow!" Running footsteps, the clatter of metal on marble, the creak of leather, the acrid stench of fire and sweat. "Please, Shade, open your eyes."

_I can't_, she wanted to say. The cold marble was gone, replaced with the hard warmth of her brother's arms. _Don't worry, Zack, I'm right here_.

Then the dweomer, determined to answer her question, closed over her head and dragged her down.

..::~*~::..

The scent of apple blossom.

A small wind chime, sweetly ringing in the breeze.

A book, held open by familiar, beloved hands.

This illustration had always scared and thrilled Shadow at the same time. Mother's face was unreadable, for she'd lowered her head enough that her bangs slipped forward and concealed it. Was she looking at the book from behind her hair? Or were her eyes closed because she was not a Cetra, so that she could leave her only daughter alone with the creatures that had destroyed Jenova's home planet?

At a poke from the dweomer, Shadow studied the illustration.

It was a swirling mass of inky brushstrokes, meant to represent chaos. Within the chaos loomed three shapes: A serpentine body, rearing into the turbulent storm. Reptilian eyes, set deep in a bony, scaled face. Massive wings that swept the stars from the sky.

Three mighty beasts of war, buried in the core of the planet by the force of Jenova's impact.

Sleeping.

Waiting.

Hating.

_Dragons_.

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_**A/N: **The Deverry novels (at least the five or six I read) aren't written in a linear way. They skip back and forth through the timeline, across centuries no lie, but they also have more than one POV character. Since this story only has a single narrator and won't be anywhere near as long as one of the books, this is my answer to the question of style._

_So, yes. Jenova has an alternate in this world, too. And she's a good guy. I think. :3_

_Um, I think that's about it. What do you think? If you've read this far, won't you please review? Anything you thought of - or felt - or just to let me know you're here would be wonderful. And thank you!_

_Until next time,_

_I am forever yours,_

_Anne_


	3. Chapter 1, Part 3

Fenrir Strife, Wolf King of Midgar, summoned all four of his children to his audience chamber. Zack brought the message.

"Hey. The old man wants us," he said, sliding the door open to Shadow's rooms. He leaned against the jamb, one hand on his hip, the other jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Shadow and Lady Aerith looked up from their floral arrangements. Sultry summer air invaded through the paper doors along the balcony, which Yuffie had opened once the direct sunlight left the courtyard six floors below. Bunches of cut blooms from the gardens lay across a low table, leaving droplets of water across the polished surface that caught the light like crystal beads.

"Zack! I didn't expect to see you today," Aerith said, abandoning her flowers, her trailing white robes patterned with sapphire butterflies, her slim waist wrapped in a blue sash and pink belt.

Zack smiled, glowing eyes soft and only for her. "Well, I might have volunteered to fetch Shade."

Aerith laughed behind her hand. "Terrible! Using your only sister to such dishonorable ends."

Shadow grinned, clearing her workspace. "It wouldn't be the first time."

None of the Strife siblings had been pressured to marry early. At twenty-four, Zack was a man, but as Fenrir's second son, had five or six centuries ahead of him in which to provide heirs, should Jenova see fit. Certainly Sephiroth had never shown an inclination to name a new queen, content with his life as a soldier and the wanderlust that came with it. The Ministry looked the other way, so long as Cetra eyes never bloomed in a common-born bastard, which could be rather uncomfortable for the mother and her family, but Sephiroth kept his dalliances discreet. Still, no one could doubt the love that Zack and his young wife shared. His choice to wed her in spite of his youth had pleased Father.

Lady Aerith had taken to the mako infusions well. Her green eyes shimmered when she laughed at something her husband said in a voice too low for Shadow to hear. Unlike Lucrecia, whose lifespan had been extended to match the king's by the infusions, Aerith had unlocked the power of dweomer-healing as well as longevity. Her touch banished illness, her spells cured injuries, and her prayers could bring back the dead.

Not that any of this mattered to Zack. As much of a soldier as his elder brother, he grinned down at his wife while he tucked a lock of her raven hair behind her ear, holding her slender hand as if he couldn't bear to part with her.

Which, really, he couldn't. Zack had no secrets from his sister. It wasn't about things she saw in the ether, but rather was due to the fact that they, of the four, were the most alike. Thanks to the way he talked about her, and the way Aerith emanated a love of life, Shadow loved her, too.

"Did Father say what this is about?" Shadow asked, bringing herself back to the present. She stood, weighted down by the many layers of her kimonos. She thanked Yuffie when her maidservant brought her a towel to dry her hands and a carved wooden fan to tuck in her belt.

Zack, on the other hand, must have come from the wall, for he was wearing his uniform, Heaven's Cloud snug in its harness across his back. "Nah, but Cloud and Seph are waiting."

"Then let's go," she said. She swept out of the room, stopped in the hall, and then returned to grab him by the ear and drag him, laughing, away from his wife.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, falling easily into stride next to her.

Shadow glanced sidelong at him. He raised his arms and laced his gloved fingers behind his head, flattening the spikes of his black hair, which was combed back to collect in his collar. One long lock hung forward, jauntily disobedient. Like him. Then he caught her looking. "Something the matter?"

"Don't lie to me, Brother. You aren't very good at it."

"Hang me for a hell bound fool if I ever turn into a good liar!" He laughed, and then sighed, tilting his head back to study the whitewashed ceiling as they passed under it.

"What does Father want?" she pressed. She waited for it, but the dweomer was quiet. Frowning, she closed her hands into fists inside her trailing sleeves. Why was she wishing for her uniform, the weight of Yoshiyuki tucked in the small of her back? There was nothing wrong with her court clothes. It wasn't her turn to patrol the wall for demons, for one thing, and even Zack would have to leave Heaven's Cloud behind when they entered the audience chamber, because no one was allowed to stand armed before the king.

By the Night Sky, why would she want to? She shook her head as if that could clear the odd longing from it.

"The White Materia has something to say. Or so I heard the priest babbling on about," Zack said at last, reluctantly. Together, they descended to the ground floor and crossed a rocky courtyard to the main pagoda. Neither acknowledged the servants who paused in their work to bow in deference as they walked by, for this was expected, part of the scenery. Gloomily, he added, "Time to officially name Father's successor."

"The Wolf King's Wyrd is upon him," she said. It wasn't a question.

His glance was as sharp as the point of his sideburns, the widow's peak in the middle of his forehead. It flashed bluer than the sky. "Do you know when?"

"No," she said. The dweomer did not let her see the future.

Troubled, Zack looked away. "I don't envy Sephiroth. The crown will be his, and he can have it, may it bring him happiness. I would not be king for all the diamond dust I could lick off Shiva's perfect, round – well." He caught himself in time, remembering she was his sister and not one of his men. He forgot that small fact more often than was flattering, but she appreciated his honest, steadfast heart, and so forgave him. Subdued, he muttered, "If I had a choice, I would take my father over a kingdom."

"True spoken," she agreed, sorrow welling up in her. There was a new wind blowing. She lifted her face to it, hoping it would take her tears before they fell. The end of an era was near. But without ends, there could be no beginnings, and so she preceded Zack into the pagoda with her head high and her eyes dry.

After passing through the afternoon's light and heat that swamped the courtyard, stepping into the Hall of Ancients was like entering a cavern. Cool, jewel-colored light swam over the polished golden floor tiles, the flames of the candles wrapped in dyed paper cones. Emerald-green pillars carved with climbing lotuses flanked the main walkway, while shadowed crimson walls enclosed them like the walls of an enormous heart frozen forever between beats. The lofty ceiling was lost in green-tinged darkness. At intervals, wooden pedestals proudly put relics of bygone eras on display: A necklace, its pendant molded in a likeness of the god Phoenix, which had belonged to some distant king. A blazefire saber, wielded by a warrior-queen in a time of invasion by mainland demons. A chain and talisman that had once hung from the pommel of the legendary keyblade.

A chest overflowing with colored orbs, hoarded like a pirate's booty. Shadow looked at it, felt its whispers against her skin. This was materia that her brother, General Sephiroth, had won for his king after quelling the rebellion of the small island nation, Wutai, over one hundred years ago. He had been but sixteen.

He had become a hero.

Shadow saw her other brothers standing on opposite sides of the walkway, their backs to each other, in front of the closed, massive, red and gold doors that led into the audience chamber itself. But where Cloud stood with his head down and his fists clenched, Sephiroth merely looked bored, his glowing eyes fixed on a tapestry of their family tree, but not as if he saw it. His hair fell in a silver sheet to his knees, and he, too, wore his uniform, black trousers tucked into his boots, a long, black surcoat cinched around his waist with a wide leather belt that hugged his lower ribs and his sword belt buckled crosswise over it; Masamune's sheath hung empty at his right hip.

Shadow's right hand twitched.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Zack cheerfully called. He handed Heaven's Cloud to a waiting attendant, who failed to hide a grunt of surprise at the broadsword's weight, and went to speak to Sephiroth.

Shadow, however, gravitated to Cloud. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head, his black hair short and styled in peaks like a choppy nighttime sea. Shadow sometimes wondered if he wore it that way to distinguish himself from Sephiroth, whose hair was sleeker than that of an otter's fur. The face beneath Cloud's disordered spikes, however, was hers.

Oh, there were differences. Even clean-shaven, his jaw and chin were a little more square, his lips, though well-formed, less full. A faint, jagged scar above his left eye marked where a dog demon had gotten too close. But his small nose, the shape of his eyes, the thin arch of eyebrows, the expanse of forehead, she shared them all.

"Father means to send me away when this is over," he said in his soft-spoken way. He'd suffered from crippling shyness when they were younger, but a blooded captain of one of the king's warbands could not hide behind his older brothers forever. He had a keen mind and a passionate heart; a dangerous combination masked by a vast well of insecurity. Patiently, Shadow waited for him to find the right words to express himself. "I shall be given men to form my own warband and minor ministry, servants, cattle, poultry, court ladies. Everything a superfluous third prince could want and more, if I will go quietly into exile. Any bribe is worth pleasing our brother, because that is the only way he will keep the peace."

Across the Hall, Sephiroth chuckled, lazy and self-assured, as Zack got a bit too involved in the telling of a bawdy story, like an overexcited puppy barking at its own tail.

"This is a done deal, then?" Shadow whispered under cover of Zack's laughter, aghast. So soon! She thought they'd have until next spring, the season that traditionally began campaigns. "Which province has he assigned you?"

"Gongaga." Cloud wasn't looking at her, his head bowed, shoulders slack.

Shadow gasped. Gongaga! But that province was the farthest south, a tiny string of islands blanketed in jungle and crawling with demons. The mansion there stood empty three years out of five; its environment did not encourage a landholder to thrive.

Father's message was clear: Cloud would be too busy surviving in Gongaga to cause trouble in Midgar. It truly was an exile. And he would do this, essentially throw off a good son and better captain, a prince who loved Midgar with the fierce loyalty of a true Wolf, all for Sephiroth's thrice-cursed pride!

_How is that any different than what he and Sephiroth have planned for me_?

Shadow could think of nothing to say to Cloud. Nothing conciliatory, nothing comforting. All that filled her mind was the man who was to be her husband. Genesis. Tall, and handsome in his way, learned in both the art of war and the art of the theater. Once, she'd believed his courtship originated in love, but even she could not feign blindness for the vague disappointment that crossed his face when he kissed her, or pretend it did not hurt that he would not hold her. She recognized their betrothal for what it was – a political marriage with a close friend of the next Wolf King, the only provision for a fourth child and a princess. Genesis was kind to her, but that was all.

Attendants pushed the massive red doors open, four to a side, and Sephiroth strode through them first, calling, "Let's go."

Zack turned to follow, but Cloud grasped her shoulder and held her back. He looked at her sideways, his eyes a shining swirl of blue and green. His eyes always reminded Shadow of the planet itself, landmasses and oceans existing in beautiful harmony.

"The Ministry is behind this, Shade," he said quietly. "Father is old. There is only so much he can do when a hero stands to take his throne. Our Wyrd is tangled, and it will take more than human hands to set things straight."

* * *

_**A/N: **Wow, I had trouble with this one. So, I basically wanted to segue back into the present by this point, but I found that some backstory was necessary - although not all of it. Not by a long shot. Is any of this confusing? Interesting? Do you want to keep reading into the next chapter or are you ready to give up? Please review and let me know! :3  
_

_Reviewer Thanks! **Lady Aurora Nocturne** (You are so sweet to come here and review this even though half the fandom is foreign to you. I can't thank you enough! If you're interested, the first Deverry novel is called "Daggerspell," and you'll know pretty quick whether you like it or not. Next point: Close. The siblings are, in order, Sephiroth, Zack, Cloud, and Shadow, and yes Lucrecia is their mother, and their father is an OC - obviously, right? lol. Yes, Sephiroth is bad. And yes, the plan is to show his transformations and motivations as the present-day story moves forward. I hope I can do him justice. I don't believe he was ever bad just because. *sad* Are the dragons the equivalent of the Weapons? Yes, but like Jenova, they're backwards. Instead of being of the planet to protect the planet, they are of the chaos to destroy/eat the planet. I think that was all of it. Haha, actually, answering all these questions helps me - it feels like brainstorming! Thank you again.), and **chaos-entropy** (YAY! I know it isn't easy to review something fandom-blind. Thank you!)._

_Sincerely,_

_Anne_


	4. Chapter 1, Part 4

Zack was gone.

She lay on her back, feet together, hands flat on her stomach, but precious time was passing while she remained locked in the past. She did not blame him for leaving her.

She wanted to struggle. To shout at her dweomer to let her go so she could help her brothers. She knew all of this. She'd lived it not a week ago. Why must she be hauled through it again?

Her awareness receded.

..::~*~::..

Impassively, King Fenrir watched their approach. His crown, worked in bronze, silver, and gold, covered the upper half his face like a mask, rising above his brow in the shape of a snarling wolf with a large orb in its jaws. So dark it seemed to swallow the light, the orb drew the eye like a physical thing. The Black Materia. Beneath it, the king's silver hair was brushed back and gelled. His robes, stiff with embroidery, did not quite hide the sudden, upsetting change in his physique.

Like all Cetra, King Fenrir's development had plateaued once he became a man. The passage of years no longer touched him, and for centuries, he appeared no older than twenty-six. Until now. When he'd reached the last of them, his true age started coming upon him all at once, sapping away his vitality, shrinking his flesh, hollowing his bones. Even his eyes, once as flawless and intense a blue as Zack's, were dim, the light nearly gone. Yes, Shadow knew his death was near. That his Wyrd was coming for him, to put a close to this cycle of life as Fenrir Strife. The Lifestream was calling his spirit home.

The Wolf King's throne sat on a golden dais, housed in a red gazebo in the middle of a still, cerulean pond. White lotus flowers floated on the water's surface, the lily pads so thickly clustered that the children used to dare each other to test them with their weight. Above the throne, a painted wolf pack cavorted across the underside of the gazebo's roof, all snarls and fangs, fiery eyes, and silver fur. Led by Sephiroth, Shadow and her brothers crossed the red-stained wooden bridge to the gazebo.

Queen Lucrecia sat to her husband's left. Fenrir's chamberlain, three ladies-in-waiting, the seneschal, the chancellor, two scribes, four priests, and several pages formed a half moon behind them. The princes and princess filed inside and took their places in front of their lord father, completing the circle. Her brothers sank to one knee with a fist on the floor, Shadow lowering into a puddle of her kimonos.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could not help but make comparisons between her brothers the way she always did. General Sephiroth, who stood well over six feet, was first, the hero of the Wutai rebellion and the leader of all the Wolf armies. Then came Zack, not as tall but just as gloried, who was a cold wind in battle and an explosion in a tavern. Cloud, who shared her face, was a whole foot shorter than Sephiroth, a leanly muscled tactician. It was as if their father's vitality had waned with each child, endowing them with less than the one who came before.

And she was the least of them. A shadow of her brothers, small enough for Cloud to tuck under his chin. Dweomer-touched and redundant. Even her blade, her beloved Yoshiyuki, had been a gift from Sephiroth. Crafted of the finest spelled mythril, it was stronger than steel, sharper than ceramic, and, should she lose it, it would always find its way back to her. But for all that, Yoshiyuki was also a shadow, half Masamune's length. Neither her skill nor her sword could match those of Sephiroth.

_Give me a hundred years to train_, she thought fiercely, making a prayer of it, hoping the Great Ones were listening._ I will not be a Shadow forever_.

Lucrecia would scold her if she could hear what Shadow was thinking. She had many times before, impatient with Shadow's misuse of her own name. Mother didn't understand. Shadow was a warrior like her brothers, and winning honor and glory meant just as much to her as it did to them, princess or not.

Someday, she would win it, and show them all.

As was proper, Shadow prostrated herself in her father's presence, touching her forehead to the floor, glad, for once, that no one could see her expression.

..::~*~::..

Time swelled and receded like the breathing of the sea. She was in the audience chamber in the Hall of Ancients; she was in the Jade Temple.

She heard the priests of the past begin their prayers over the White Materia.

In the present, she heard Zack give a yell, sending some of his aura at a barrier – from the sound of it, he'd blasted past the door leading to Jenova's chamber.

So it went, flip-flopping like a dying fish, spiraling out of control. The past. The present. And she a prisoner, unable to break free.

She heard the chancellor dictating to the scribes that they would start with Princess Shadow. No one doubted that the White Materia would choose Sephiroth. He was born to be king, raised and taught to rule. The chancellor merely wanted it formally stated that the White Materia did _not_ choose any of the younger children.

She heard Zack, his voice raw with pain, scream a single word. A name. A curse.

"_Sephiroth_!"

..::~*~::..

_Sephiroth_ . . .

Shadow loved her brothers. All three of them. They each formed an important part of her life, although, by virtue of birth, she was closer to the middle two than Sephiroth. He was almost like another father, lofty and skilled and wise, whose love she hadn't quite earned yet. If she married Genesis, perhaps then he would acknowledge her worth. If she mastered the art of warfare, perhaps then. If she became a hero. If . . . if . . . if . . .

..::~*~::..

The memory was shaky. It flickered and wobbled like a flag in the wind. This time, the dweomer placed her as a ghost in her own memory, able to observe but not participate in the events of the past.

From off to the side, Shadow watched as the priest knelt before the black-haired woman she knew was herself. The White Materia sat on a square of folded paper in his hands, looking like an opaque ball of glass, its seemingly cheap luster veiling its true worth. Normally, this most holy of materia resided in the queen's crown, but with prayers and chants and a sacred willow branch, the high priest was able to remove it from its setting for the ceremony. The memory-Shadow took it up, cupping it in her palms. Nothing happened.

. . . From somewhere far away, Shadow's physical ears picked up on Zack's yelling. "Why did you kill our people? Why did you hurt Shadow?_ Answer me, Sephiroth_!"

And Sephiroth started to laugh. . . .

Well, not quite nothing. A white shape swam over the surface of the orb. So fleeting, but so warm. An acknowledgment, softening the dismissal. Shadow watched herself squeeze the materia in her fingers, knew that she was thanking the goddess for this token of her love. Gently, reverently, she settled the White Materia back onto the paper and bowed down her head.

. . . "The others have gone on ahead. They will have dealt with my little brother," Sephiroth murmured in that other place, the real one, and Shadow marveled that she could hear him at all. "We will seek the other power Jenova left us. Father tried to keep it from me, but I know the truth now."

"Sephiroth," Zack snarled. "What the hell happened to you?" . . .

In her shaky vision, the priest knelt before Cloud.

As the memory-Shadow had done, Cloud picked up the White Materia.

Even though she knew what happened next, from her position next to him she had not been able to see it. Ghost-Shadow hurried around the priest, her eyes on her brother's face.

. . . "You traitor," Sephiroth sneered in that other place. . . .

Instantly, the White Materia flared to life, sending waves of green-white brilliance blasting through the audience chamber. The dweomer-wind was so intense and unexpected that everyone cried out, flinging arms and sleeves in front of their eyes.

Everyone except Cloud, who stared openmouthed at the proof of his right to rule blazing in his bare hands, the pupils of his dazed, blue-green eyes contracted to the merest of dots.

And Sephiroth, jumping to his feet at the end of the line, whose face twisted in disbelief, rage, and hatred, while the magical wind blew his long hair around his head like a nest of silver snakes.

The memory sped up, jouncing and tilting sickeningly as it rushed through the confusion that followed and then resolved into an entirely different scene in the audience chamber. One that had taken place an hour ago.

. . . Bizarrely, the sounds of Sephiroth and Zack battling in Jenova's inner sanctum intruded over Shadow's harsh breathing in this, the last of the dweomer-memories.

"Sephiroth! I loved you!" Zack cried, followed by the clash and squeal of metal on metal. . . .

She and Cloud, who had hurriedly dressed for battle after a frightened page brought them the wild tale of General Sephiroth's treachery, rushed down the Hall of Ancients and burst through the massive red doors.

. . . "No," Zack said, growing faint as the physical world gave way to the memory. "You are not the Sephiroth I once knew." . . .

"I was supposed to become ruler of this kingdom with my superior power and knowledge," the memory-Sephiroth was saying as Cloud and Shadow thundered over the burning bridge. He did not acknowledge their approach except to slide Masamune out of their mother's body and step aside so that she could fall, lifeless, at his feet. "But that worthless fool snatched it away from me. Right, Father? I was the chosen one. I am the chosen existence that is to become this planet's ruler."

It felt like a dream. Every muscle in her body locked her in place, Cloud a statue at her side, as Lucrecia's blood spread beneath her hands, her trailing hair, staining her clothes, glittering in the firelight. They were alone in the gazebo; the royal attendants must have either fled or been killed.

Sephiroth approached Fenrir, who was too weak to stand, although he tried to speak. "This arrogance. This folly. You cannot be my son. We do not rule the entire planet!"

"Don't be sad, Father," Sephiroth said, amused. Swift and ruthless, he struck, and the Wolf King's head rolled onto the floor. Sephiroth bent, picked it up, and turned to face his speechless, horrorstruck brother and sister, smiling. He raised the head as if showing them to it. "Come with me, and witness my rebirth. We will go to the Promised Land. If I cannot rule Gaea as Wolf King, then I shall rule the planet as a _dragon_!"

Then, to Shadow's absolute terror and revulsion, the memory became an icy nightmare of dweomer.

Fenrir Wolf King spoke, the eyes showing a crescent of watery blue, blood and other fluids streaming from the stump of neck, the tongue blue-black and swollen.

"You are not my son," he gargled, and then his distorted voice rose to a scream. "_You are no son of mine_!"

* * *

_**A/N: **I don't know about anyone else, but I am sick of flashbacks! LOL! This chapter is meant to be confusing. I plan to address some of these events again later in the story. :3  
_

_Random fact: One of the main themes in the Deverry Cycle is reincarnation, although it's not labeled as such. This was one of the reasons I thought these two fandoms would exist well together, because the Lifestream is a similar event. I like to think that, if these characters were reborn in another world, they would still be tied together, and would make the same choices for good or bad. This is their Wyrd._

_Reviewer Thanks! **Lady Aurora Nocturne** (Yay! I'm so happy you approve of my rendition of Zack and Aerith! :3 Yes, I do plan to show more of Genesis, the same way I plan to feature Sephiroth. I don't know how soon "soon" is, though. Plus, woohoo on another Deverry fan! *snicker*)._

_All my love,_

_Anne_

_You know the drill, guys: Please review, won't you? :3_


	5. Chapter 1, Part 5

"_No_!" Shadow wrenched herself out of the dweomer, feeling it shatter like ice all around her as hysterical sobs fought their way from the pit of her stomach. "Don't make me watch that! It's not real, it's not real!"

Just then, with an almighty _clang_ that made her jump and scream, Zack came barreling out of the inner sanctum as if drop-kicked by the goddess Shiva herself, his hands empty. He slammed into a pillar, his skull striking marble with a sickening crunch, and then he crumpled at its base. Blue lightning crackled around him, the remnants of Sephiroth's aura attack.

"Oh, sweet Moon." She scrambled across the floor, bypassing the steps and the green mist rolling down them in torrents. Once she saw the blood streaming from his hair, and more coating his right arm, she didn't dare try to move him. Unlike him, she did not have the ability to cure. Thankfully, he was breathing.

Then Cloud rushed by her, eyes blazing, stirring the green mist into smoky whorls and miniature cyclones as he passed through it.

"Big Brother!" she cried. "Where –"

But he was already gone, swallowed by the mist.

Shadow glanced down at Zack, the corpses of the slain holy men defiling Jenova's temple, wondered if Cloud had met Angeal or Genesis on the way, and wished whole-heartedly for Yoshiyuki. She couldn't stay there and do nothing.

Unarmed, she left Zack and raced up the stairs, into Jenova's sanctum. She'd never gone inside before. No one but the priests who tended the goddess and those humans chosen for mako infusions ever had.

It was like another world.

Edges lost definition, teasing her sight like a ripple in the thickening air. A bridge spanned the green mist, shot through with white light from below, as if the ground and the sky had reversed themselves and the sun was shining underwater. The bridge itself couldn't seem to make up its mind; one moment it was a time-worn span of rock, the next, a leafless tree limb whose bark was cracked and pitted. Everything glowed, the red walls and the morphing bridge, in shifting shades of blue and green.

Far below, the Lifestream surged, a sparkling river – a woman's flowing green hair – a seed sending countless new shoots for the sun. It undulated like a mass of solid vines, and then settled and broke into water-like waves.

Shadow couldn't take her eyes off it, and the bridge rolled under her feet. She crashed to her hands and knees, drowning in vertigo.

The Lifestream. The very blood of the planet and the source of dweomer. It was the spirit energy of all who had come before and would come after, those souls who remembered dying out of the light to be born in the darkness, to live and die as a being of flesh and blood. Again. And again. In an endless, joyous cycle.

She could hear them, voices from her past lives, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. She couldn't remember . . .

A figure in washed-out black was stalking across the bridge in front of her. Shadow blinked back the dizziness. There, near her right hand, Heaven's Cloud was buried point-down in the bridge, which now looked like sheets of metal riveted together. Its golden hand guard sparkled as if wet, the blade shining translucent like glass. Zack's sword. A weapon.

Head clearing, she got to her feet and wrenched it clear. Heaven's Cloud dragged at her hand, recognizing that she was not its master, but with her mako-infused strength she would be able to wield it in a pinch. Soundlessly, she began to run after Cloud.

Sephiroth stood at the far end of the bridge in front of a grayish-purple statue of a nude woman.

Jenova.

Her torso ended in misty green nothing, and she seemed to be missing at least one arm. Long, white hair framed a beautiful face, her lips frozen in a secretive smile. Behind her, a pair of wings, one sculpted like white feathers and the other black, rose like thunderheads, reflecting the twinkling light of the Lifestream.

As Shadow ran, Sephiroth reached up and grasped a protrusion of stone that covered the statue's face like a blindfold. From that distance, she could not read what had been written on it, although she guessed it was a spell of some sort. Sephiroth ripped it off with the screech of protesting metal, revealing that the statue had no eyes. He then matter-of-factly used Masamune's hilt to smash through the Wolf King's crown, freeing the Black Materia with a glitter of pure darkness, before carelessly tossing away Fenrir's battered head. It made no sound as it splashed into the Lifestream so far below.

Sephiroth leaned against the statue, his black-gloved fingers splayed across its cold, unyielding cheeks. As if entranced, he lifted the Black Materia and then jammed it into the statue's left eye socket.

The socketed orb glowed a hectic pink. Shadow felt ice slide down her back, because, for a moment, it looked like the statue's smile turned to a grimace.

"It's all right now," Sephiroth murmured to it, resting his head between smooth stone breasts.

And then Cloud thrust Fusion right through his back, pinning him to the statue. A crack ran up the perfectly molded torso.

The Lifestream rustled like the tide. Shadow slid to a halt as Heaven's Cloud thrummed in response.

"Who are you?" Sephiroth rasped up at the statue's indifferent smile, unable to turn to face his assailant.

"Return Father. Mother. Our people," Cloud said, his rage spilling over and making his quiet voice shake. "I admired you. Respected you. But you . . . _bastard_."

With a rip of cloth and leather, Cloud yanked Fusion free, and Sephiroth gagged. Slowly, he slid down the statue, coming to a rest in a smear of his own blood. His face was lost in the cloudy silver of his hair.

It was done. Panting, Cloud stepped back, his head bowed over the motionless body of his brother.

Then he turned. "Shadow!"

"I'm fine," she assured him quickly, "but Zack –"

"Come."

Together, they reentered the dim, hard-edged reality of the outer temple. Cloud slipped Fusion into its waiting harness, which hung from his hips to tap against the back of his thighs, while Shadow knelt by Zack and curled his slack hand around the hilt of his sword.

"Can you help him?" Cloud asked.

"I think so," she said. She had to try. She closed her hands over Zack's bigger fist and accessed his aura. _Cure_, she thought at him. _I can guide it_. She felt his acknowledgement when mako tendrils flowed between them through the contact.

From the inner sanctum, the sounds of marble shattering pierced the unnaturally still air.

Cloud jerked to his feet as if a god had pulled him up by the throat. His blue-green eyes widened in a kind of enraged horror when, hunched and limping, Sephiroth appeared. He was still holding a head in one hand, and it took Shadow a moment to realize that it was the statue's.

Except it no longer looked like a statue. The white hair floated, supple as silk, while the pink eye blazed like corpse fire.

_Oh, she_ . . . Shadow stopped breathing when she realized the awful truth. That the remains Jenova had gifted to that king two millennia ago were more than her eyes, which had become the Black and White Materia. It had truly been herself, sealed in the temple, tended by her faithful priests, guiding the Lifestream and the reign of the Wolf Kings. Shadow fought the instinctual urge to prostrate herself before their goddess – their mother. _Sephiroth_ . . . _Murderer._ _Kingslayer_. _Defiler_!

"By the likes of you," Sephiroth muttered from the top of the stairs. He seemed to be holding in his guts with his sword arm, and he left a viscous trail of maroon behind him.

"Cloud," Zack said, his voice weak with pain, and Shadow leaned over him anxiously. His eyelids fluttered, and then opened to show a sliver of sapphire blue. "Finish him . . . off."

"By the likes of you!" Sephiroth's voice resounded through the temple, angry as a colony of wasps.

Cloud took a stance at the bottom of the stairs, drawing Fusion, readying the huge, flat blade. He charged. "_Sephiroth_!"

Their brother did not move, allowing Cloud's attack, his guard wide open – but then Masamune flicked out like a snake's thin tongue, deflecting Fusion, and pierced Cloud's chest. In a spray of red, the long blade exited Cloud's back next to his spine.

Fusion clattered to the steps and fell out of sight. Like a farmer slinging hay, Sephiroth used Masamune to pick Cloud up and fling him into the sanctum.

"Not again," Shadow breathed, shuddering violently. The dweomer-warning clenched around her; whatever bad thing it was trying to tell her was going to happen in that room. She hadn't realized how much easier her breaths came, how light she felt, once she and Cloud had come out. Now that he and Sephiroth were back in there together, she shook until her teeth clacked.

Zack, who had shuddered along with her because of her grip on his arm, gasped, "Go."

She didn't hesitate. Shadow gathered the energies of earth and air and leaped to the top of the steps.

She was not fast enough to stop Sephiroth when he stabbed Cloud again, picking him up as easily as skewering a vegetable with a chopstick. When Sephiroth swung him over the edge of the bridge, Cloud cried out, his boots hanging above the seething Lifestream. All Sephiroth had to do was tilt the blade, and Cloud would slide to his death. Shadow would never reach them in time, and she could not use her mako to attack for fear of hitting Cloud.

"You really thought you could defeat me?" Sephiroth asked, hatred deforming his face, but he was the clear victor. "Remember it well."

At Sephiroth's side, Jenova's single, sightless eye glared. Nobody said or did anything, trapped in a tense silence that seemed to last forever. And it was Cloud who broke it.

"Our parents," he ground out through his impaled lung. "Our city. I will never forgive you!"

He grasped Masamune's blade and began pulling himself along it, closer to his hated brother. Shadow felt the tears scalding her ice-cold cheeks. Even Sephiroth's eyes widened.

Screaming in a haze of pain and fury, Cloud kicked forward, found purchase on the bridge, and, slicing his fingers open on the bloody blade, twisted his body and threw Sephiroth back, who was too shocked and wounded to keep a grip on his sword. Sephiroth slammed into the handrail and sprawled on the floor, blood gushing over his trousers.

His breathing ragged around the length of mythril embedded in his solar plexus, Cloud slipped in his own blood and fell to his knees.

"Impossible," Sephiroth breathed. He must have seen death in his little brother's expression, for he seemed to make his decision in a split second. "Come with me to the Promised Land," he crooned at Jenova's severed head, as if speaking to a lover.

And then, before Shadow could stop him, he cradled it to his chest and leaped off the bridge.

She caught a glimpse of his face when he did. He was smiling.

"Sephiroth," Cloud said, his sweaty skin shining an eerie green from the glow of the Lifestream, and then he fainted.

* * *

_**A/N: **All right, let's talk about Shadow - specifically, her lack of involvement in these events. I am so sorry! First, I did not want to interfere with the Zack-Cloud-Sephiroth dynamic because it is so awesome already, and it's important. Second, she is still a bit of a shadow, to use her own words (she's so young, really). I do promise she will not remain a shadow forever. She's going to have her own awesomeness. PROMISE._

_Let's talk about how long this chapter is getting (lol!). I meant to close it up, but that didn't happen. If you're new to my works (welcome!), know that this is normal. I will lament it every time, too. Haha! :3 So there's at least one more part coming._

_Let's talk about weapons. I chose to give Zack the SOLDIER-issued broadsword he started out with in "Crisis Core" just because the Buster Sword's legacy does not exist in this world. Angeal fights with his hands only. He was not Zack's mentor. Fenrir had the Buster Sword, and Cloud has the fusion swords. I named Zack's sword Heaven's Cloud, because while I suspect it is a simple mythril sword, I like the other name better. :3 I chose to go with the English translation because, let's face it, the Japanese one is clunky and takes too long to type._

_Let's see, what else? In case you're wondering, I am basing the kingdom of Gaea on the visual design of Wutai, with "Inu-Yasha"-type culture, including clothing. The uniforms Shadow and her brothers wear are based on everybody's clothing in "Advent Children," but the time period is too early for snaps, buttons, or zippers, so (for example) they wear sashes and buckled sword belts and boots look different. Wutai itself is one of the islands, and yes, that is Yuffie's birthplace. Everybody has black hair. Even Cloud (hah, there's a visual for you). There's a reason for this. :3 Trust me, okay?_

_Reviewer Thanks! **Lady Aurora Nocturne** (Hello again, my friend! Thank you for coming back and reviewing so faithfully. I always look forward to it! First question: Kind of. Cloud being chosen was like the last straw in a long string of things that went wrong for him. :3 Some of that has already been hinted at, and I'll get into it more as Shadow learns more. Second question: I don't plan to have them to remember. For one thing, in the novels, it always takes someone else reminding a person of his or her past, like Nevyn because he's lived so long and knows them all. Shadow and the others don't have anyone like that. But, you never know, I might change my mind! :3 Thanks again for reviewing!)._

_Most humbly yours,_

_Anne_

_Review! Review! Review! I love discussions, I love criticism, I love praise, I love encouragement, but mostly I love knowing someone is out there. Hee! :3_


	6. Chapter 1, Part 6

"They were heading west, Lady Princess," Rude reported in his deep, measured voice. Originally from the eastern mainland, he towered over Shadow, his head shaved and ears pierced multiple times in the Turkish style. A thin, black mustache and goatee framed a well-formed mouth, his cheekbones high and clear cut, his skin the dusky brown common to his people. He stood at strict attention, scowling as if he had a pickled plum in his mouth. "Commander Rhapsodos and Commander Hewley commandeered the airship _Tonberry_ with about fifty men aboard. They flew for open ocean."

"So there's no way to tell where they're headed," she said, internally cursing Genesis for an ingrown hair on Hades' black ass. Not even Shadow, one of the greatest dweomer minds on the islands, could scry across large bodies of water. The exhalations of elemental force obscured scried images like a fog, and if she tried to locate them with an astral body, the pounding waves of the same force would crush the projection and kill her. If only she had an eidolon at her command! But the ancient god-summons were lost to history. Wherever _Tonberry_ was going, someone would have to physically fly out in another ship to bring her back. She said as much to her lieutenants. "They have defied us all by taking to the sea."

Reno snorted. "Fat lot of good it'll do 'em. There's nothing but the end of the world out there. They ran like rats, and they'll die like 'em, too. Fuel runs out, off the edge they go."

He pantomimed a ship sailing into space, his tongue hanging out in a parody of terror. Shadow almost smiled at the irreverence of the secret police's second-in-command.

Her lieutenants were a study in opposites: Reno was pale where Rude was dark, lanky where the Turk was bulky, his hair an explosion of black spikes pulled into a thin ponytail at the nape of his neck. While Rude's uniform was immaculate, Reno perpetually kept the vest untied, shrugging his kimono off one shoulder so that the sleeve dangled empty. His tilted, nemophila-blue eyes were perfectly normal for a Gaean, without the glow of a Cetra's.

"The world isn't flat," Rude told him in a voice that clearly asked, _Are you daft_?

"The other men from the king's warband say their comrades looked ensorcelled," Reno added in disgust, ignoring his partner's question. "Yet no one did a thing to stop _Tonberry's_ launch. Cowards."

Shadow nodded. Yes, that made sense. Most likely her brother had hypnotized a priest or two in order to bestow the mako infusions on Angeal, which was breaking several taboos at once, and Genesis was a skilled fire mage. Two sorcerers were well enough to muddle fifty sailors and soldiers into betraying their king and stealing a ship from his fledgling skyfleet.

"Any sign of Sephiroth?" she asked.

"Nah." Reno scrubbed the back of his head. "Cissnei investigated the whole sanctum with a couple of them priests. There's nothin' left. Don't see how he could have made it, Princess."

Shadow crossed her arms over her middle. She was no longer cold, but she was very, very tired. "This is the Hero of Wutai we're talking about. He knew what he was doing when he jumped."

"If he survived submersion in the Lifestream, it could take him anywhere on the planet," Rude said slowly, following the trail of her thought.

She sighed, the truth of it an ache in her bones. "Yes. I think that my –" She stopped herself. Composed her face. Her betrothal was a thing of the past. "That Commanders Rhapsodos and Hewley have gone to meet the thrice-cursed murderer in the Promised Land."

Rude's dark eyes darted to her face and then back to the air above her left shoulder. His mouth looked carved from stone, as if keeping similar oaths inside through sheer strength of will. He, ever-faithful servant of the Wolf King and sworn member of the secret police, was as upset by Sephiroth's betrayal and Genesis' desertion as she was.

"Aw, that's a fairy tale, Princess!" Reno groaned, oblivious. "You don't really believe there's some god-touched land across the sea with so much mako the orchard trees bear gemstones instead of fruit and the rivers run milk and honey, do you?"

"And why not?" Unsmiling, she looked up at him. Switching over to her second sight, she opened a link to his aura – pale gold, like a soft eggshell of light surrounding his body – and gave it a gentle tap.

His eyes widened above the crimson crescents tattooed along his cheekbones, the pupils dilating. She released him quickly, not wishing to harm or ensorcel him, but Reno was a simple, straightforward man and he swayed drunkenly anyway. Rude caught his elbow, steadied him.

"There is more to this world than we can see, my friend," Shadow said quietly. "Reality is an illusion. A necessary one, if we are to stay sane. But the Promised Land lies bare, stripped of all illusion. Anything is possible there."

"What do they hope to find?" Rude asked while Reno shook his head like a dog ridding its ears of water.

An ancient enemy. The forces of chaos. A painting in a book, a memory that was not her own. Shadow tightened her arms. "The eaters of the world."

"Lady Princess."

She turned, frowning at the remembered ache of the blow to her head and resulting concussion, both magicked away by her sister-in-law, although nerves weren't so easily convinced once they'd tasted pain and could take hours to catch up to reality. The temple had become the center of relief efforts, untouched by the fire in the city below, which Zack – acting general in Sephiroth's absence – was fighting with what was left of the warbands. She could see Lady Aerith, helping revived priests and herbwomen to console, reassure, and heal the steady stream of citizens filling the outer sanctum. Aerith's gentle smile never wavered. Anyone who reached out to her received her hand in return, the mako passing through her like the touch of spring sunlight on frozen winter ground. Faces regained color, backs straightened, and the people's love for her lapped at Shadow's ankles. So many praising Lady Aerith, so close to the Lifestream, made their adoration manifest. It washed away the psychic stain of murder, leaving the temple floors clean and pure once more. An exorcism, Shadow thought with relief, would not be necessary.

Those few that Aerith could not save lay in ordered rows at the back of the temple, covered in clean, straw mats. Their souls had chosen to move on when the silver cords that connected them to their bodies were severed. They had died into true life in the Light. They would be given proper burial later, their enlightened choice honored by every Gaean.

Cloud stood apart from all this activity in deep discussion with certain members of their father's Ministry – now his Ministry. Chancellor Rufus Shinra and Tseng, the seneschal and head of the secret police, were doing most of the talking, both taller than the new king, hemming him in. Misty green moonlight from the crystal ceiling fell around her brother like a cloak. Although his clothes were torn and bloody, Cloud gave no sign that he'd ever been wounded. Aerith had done her job well.

"Princess?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Cissnei." Shadow turned to the amber-eyed young woman wearing the secret police's black and white uniform. "What have you discovered?"

"This, Lady Princess." Cissnei held out her open hands, palms up, with a wrapped bundle lying across them.

From the other side of the sanctum, Cloud looked up.

Shadow did not meet his gaze. She flicked aside one corner of the wrapping, revealing a slice of spelled mythril. Sharper than steel, gleaming like quicksilver, it hummed like crystal struck by wind, responding to her auric vibrations. _Calling to its master, no doubt_, she thought grimly. _We'll just see about that_.

Gaean mythrilsmiths were clever with their limited dweomer. Each new blade was forged with a certain spell that created an affinity with its true owner so that, if lost or stolen, sooner or later the magical currents of the universe would float the blade home. Shadow saw no reason to allow Sephiroth the luxury of reclaiming his precious Masamune. If he wanted it, he could come get it.

She placed her hands, palms down, on top of Cissnei's, with the blade sandwiched between them. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the sigil of the Light, an upright, five-pointed star within a circle. It grew in her mind with lines of blue fire, drawing on her mako, fed by her will, until, with one last push, it burst into flaming life on the physical plane. To her credit, Cissnei neither gasped nor dropped the sword, although her hands trembled. Shadow created five more wards, branding Masamune with a pentacle for each traitorous foot of its length, sealing its voice. When she finished, the wind-crystal hum was silenced. She stamped her boot three times on the floor to signal the end of her working.

"Put that away," she said, her voice flinty.

"As you wish." Cissnei rewrapped the blade, handling it with the care reserved for pit vipers.

"Is there anything else?"

"Only one thing appears to be missing from the castle," Cissnei said, shaking back her curls. "The chest of materia is no longer in the Hall of Ancients. We have not been successful in locating it."

Reno swore, long and creatively, until Shadow waved a quelling hand.

"Enough," she said. "We will deal with that when the time comes. The White Materia is safe, and for now, that is all that matters. Understood?"

Reno nodded, but his eloquence had gotten Tseng's attention. He and the others approached, their sandals scuffing on decorated green rugs.

In keeping with Wutai's customs, Tseng wore a small red tilak, or chakra dot, in the center of his forehead, and his short ponytail was sleek, silky as soot. He bowed to Shadow, and then turned his dark, slanted eyes on Reno. Looking coolly at his abashed lieutenant, he spoke to the chancellor. "Sir, if you don't need anything else, we shall continue our investigation."

"Please do," Rufus said graciously. "Cissnei, kindly hand that here."

Chancellor Shinra never raised his voice. He never needed to. Something about his smile, the way it didn't reach his cold blue eyes, was all the weight he needed to wield. Cissnei handed over Sephiroth's sword before bowing, once to Shadow and deeper to Cloud, and following the others out of the temple.

"Majesty, what shall we do with this?" Rufus asked, sounding as amused as if a child had handed him a rock while insisting it was gold.

Cloud, who had visibly flinched at the title, muttered, "I neither know nor care. Do as you please."

"Very well." Rufus bowed, an elegant gesture, and then pointed out, "You are the Wolf King now, Majesty. You might want to start caring."

"Not yet," Cloud said, finally lifting his face, and Shadow's heart wrenched at the pain she saw there, the fear in the wide, blue-green eyes. "I haven't been –"

Rufus chuckled, cutting him off. "No, you haven't been crowned. Like as not you won't be, not with both crown and Black Materia gone. But the White Materia has spoken. Get used to it. Lady Princess, my leave I take."

He, too, bowed to her, and exited the sanctum, Masamune shrouded like a corpse at his side.

The night wore on with no further developments. Eventually, the fires were gotten under control, and Zack returned to lean, exhausted, into his wife's embrace. Cloud had retreated into himself, standing with his back to his people, leaving Shadow to hear reports and grievances, to direct the relief efforts, to keep the calm.

"You look dead on your feet," Zack observed, slinging an arm around her neck and crushing her to his side.

Annoyed, she fended him off. Just because she was small didn't mean she liked being manhandled.

"What say we go home?" he asked the air in general, unperturbed by her rebuff. "I, for one, could use a few hours' sleep in a nice, soft bed –"

"I'll kill him."

It was the first thing Cloud had said in hours, and it startled all of them. Aerith's eyes were huge in her pale face when she ventured to ask, "Cloud?"

Zack grinned, putting a hand to his little brother's shoulder as if to shake him awake. "Here, now, listen to you! What do you think you're saying, you numbskull? There's naught we can do tonight – or rather, this morrow," he corrected himself with a glance at the skylight, lightening into a grayish dawn.

"He's right," Shadow put in, but a ripple of cold ran down her back. She tried to keep her voice light. "You are our lord king, Brother, and we will follow your orders, but there is much we have to do before –"

Cloud whipped around, glaring at them both, his grief and rage undimmed. "There is nothing else! I swear by my rightful throne, that the man who killed our father, who slaughtered all those innocent souls, who is our brother no longer, will die by my hand!"

"Hey, hey, watch your tongue!" Zack shouted, alarmed. "That kind of thing has a way of coming back to bite you."

But his warning came too late. The Great Ones had heard, and accepted her brother's vow.

A flash of brilliant white burst over the altar, bringing with it the smell of a storm. The refugees shrieked and moaned at this display of Otherworldly dweomer, some sinking to their knees in awe and terror both. Children scurried for cover, the priests prostrated themselves where they stood. Three great knocks throbbed and rolled through the sanctum and left ringing silence in their wake.

Shadow could see the chains of Cloud's Wyrd settling around him, shining in the depths of his blue-green eyes. His vow, spoken in reckless, righteous anger, had become a geis. If he didn't fulfill it, then he would die, and soon, under the disfavor of the Great Ones. A soul so polluted by a broken geis might not get another chance at life.

"Big Brother," she whispered, horrified. "What have you done?"

* * *

_**A/N: **Greetings and Salutations, Dear Readers. Chapter One is FINISHED! Woohoo! I admit this took me longer than I had anticipated, mostly because I have been knocked-flat sick with a pharyngoconjunctival fever. Sounds fancy, huh? Mostly it just sucks the big green weenie. It's a little kid disease, but, thanks to summer vacation, that's who I got it from. Yay. In all seriousness, i wrote about half this chapter fevered out of my mind, so if it doesn't make sense, let me know._

_Let's talk about voices. I got the visuals down last chapter, and i really don't care how these characters sound in your (the reader's) head, but for me, I'm going mostly with the Japanese voice actors. I was privileged enough to have been in Japan when "Crisis Core" was first released and spent many happy hours with those voices (plus, Gackt . . .). I also played the American release and was pretty much fine for the casting - EXCEPT ANGEAL. Seriously, after listening to that nice Japanese voice, I don't think the American one was a good choice. Also, his name. In English. Sounds like "congeal." *shudders* Why, translation gods, why?! If "Zakusu" becomes "Zack," I would have made it "Angelou." So. For me, Japanese voices, Japanese name pronunciations. Which would make Shadow "shi-YA-dou." *happy smile*_

_By the way, I'm still sick. I'll try to stop ranting. LOL._

_There's another visual for you. Turks in hakama! :3_

_I have decided it needs to be tradition to have a ship named "Tonberry." And, like I referenced other FF games (including Kingdom Hearts), FFXIII's eidolons will make an appearance rather than VII's summons. For the most part. Like the black hair, there is a reason for this. The Deverry novels deal with some nice cultural differences, and there are at least three languages spoken in the books. I'm adding modern-day Japanese (but writing it in English, because I'm not that pretentious). Why not? It's not like the people in Deverry are gonna know the difference. *giggle*_

_Reviewer Thanks! **Lady Aurora Nocturne** (Oh, good! That's great! I'm glad it all came out okay. Thank you so much for the review!) and **Victoria Chrystallis** (SQUEE! I know I already squeeed at you, but welcome! I'm so happy you decided to R&R. :3 1. Haha! It's a great song, isn't it? 2. Yes, scary big age gap. Good to know that came through right - I can't even tell you how many times I deleted and rewrote that one paragraph . . . 3. Aw, Shadow thanks you. 4. YES! That's great to know, thank you! (what do you mean, unreliable? You just gave me five of them, haha!) 5. Most excellent. I'm a little scared because I've left "Last Order" behind now and am in completely . . . well, not ORIGINAL . . . but uncharted territory. Meep!) Thank you both so much!_

_Anne (who is going to go drug herself up with cold medicine and hope not to die in her sleep)_

_Oh, yeah. Please review, okay? :3 Thank you!_


	7. Chapter 2, Part 1

The coronation ceremony lasted no longer than it took for the newborn sun to lift its blinding yellow face out of the lands to the east. Shadow watched it lighten the mountains from black to gray with satisfaction. A clear sunrise was a good omen. The astral tides, which influenced the flux of forces in the etheric plane, burgeoned with Aethyr at dawn. No dark dweomer could master the daytime elements of Air and Fire, just as the light weakened during the nightly hours of Water and Earth. Aethyr, the fifth element, represented the spirit renewed with the day, and it touched the young Wolf King like a halo of silver-blue fire as he knelt before the high priest, who presided over the stone altar at the edge of the cliff.

It was Shadow's doing, of course. Off to the side, she wove the signs to bring the Aethyr fire into the physical plane with her fingers hidden in her sleeves. Her brothers and Aerith would know, of course, but her spellcasting went unnoticed by everyone else. She was a shadow, a master of dweomer. Besides, a little divine help never hurt anybody.

The crowd gasped at the physical manifestation of power. When the king stood and accepted the two sacred treasures left to him after the theft of the Black Materia – the sun dagger, which he sheathed on his belt, and the moon mirror, which the head priest hung around his neck on a silver chain – and turned, crownless, glowing and glittering with the Aethyr and the sunlight caught in the silvered glass of the mirror, his people cheered.

Since King Cloud did not have a queen, Lady Aerith prostrated herself at his feet to accept the White Materia into her keeping. Like a miniature sun, it blazed white in his hands, but when Aerith cupped it in her palms, extinguishing the white fire, it greeted her with a soft jade glow. Shadow suspected it was glad to be in her possession.

Then, before two fingers of sky appeared beneath the sun's rim, the priests of the Jade Temple led a procession of the king, his family, and his Ministry back to the castle. They offered incense and prayers to the gods of the east amid storms of nemophila and purple wisteria thrown by the people all down the winding mountain road. And then it was over.

With a groan, Cloud threw himself onto his cushion in the banquet hall, sprawling flat on his back in all his court finery, and covered his eyes with an arm. He hadn't bothered to remove Fusion, a massive breach of etiquette. Shadow and Zack exchanged a look but took their own seats without a word.

Aerith, however, grinned. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I believe you're in your sister's place."

Quickly, Cloud sat up, staring up at her in mild confusion. Then he looked at the center of the table, where the Wolf King was supposed to preside with his family fanning to the left, his Ministry to the right.

He frowned. "I'm allowed to sit where I want at my own table."

"Of course." As servants began filing out of the kitchens with steamed rice, miso soup, broiled salted salmon, and fermented soy beans, Aerith removed her chopsticks from her sleeve, tied up in a silk bag embroidered with butterflies. Sweetly, she added, "Especially if you don't mind shouting your affairs at Chancellor Shinra for the whole hall to hear."

Cloud eyed the distance from himself to Rufus, for he had not only left places open for his father and mother, but Sephiroth and Zack as well. However, Zack, only a prince, had moved lower.

"Brother," Cloud said to his lap, his fingers curling into fists. "Are you sure about this?"

Zack raised his eyebrows at the abrupt change of subject. "About what?"

"The White Materia," Cloud said, and then paused. All Shadow could see was the back of his spiky head. "It –"

"Chose you," Zack finished stoutly when the second pause grew too long.

"Then you're all right, not being king? You never wanted it?"

"Not at all," Zack said with a decisive shake of his head. The diamond stud in his left ear glittered, a match to the one in Cloud's. "You're the king. Jenova decided. It's _you_. Besides," here, he grinned, "it's princes who have all the fun."

"I see," Cloud said softly. He still wasn't looking at them, but Shadow wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. That Jenova must have known, somehow, that Sephiroth was not fit to be king. That the Hero of Wutai possessed a blackened soul.

Had she also known that choosing Cloud would be the catalyst for Sephiroth's insanity?

Nobody said anything for a moment, but, as if feeling eyes on the side of his head, Rufus glanced over his steaming mug of tea and smiled benignly.

"Have I done somewhat to offend you, Majesty?" he asked down the length of the table.

"No," Shadow answered before Cloud could.

"He's afraid our father's most hallowed emissions will give his backside a rash," Zack deadpanned, earning himself a reproving smack from his wife, which he laughed off.

Although Shadow giggled, Rufus's voice cooled like his icy eyes. "Still haven't taken my advice, I see. You have much to learn, Your Majesty."

Shadow's humor died. That had sounded like a warning, and by the way Cloud's eyebrows drew down, he'd heard it that way, too. He still did not move.

"Whatever you decide, do it quick," Aerith urged. "The warbands have returned."

She was right. The last of the people must have returned to the safety of Midgar's great white wall, because the men pressed into duty guarding them from the demons who called Mt. Nibel home began flooding noisily into the hall, obviously ready for a hot breakfast. A few had already noticed the unusual seating arrangements at the royal table, including Zangan, the new commander of the king's personal warband. Thick, gray brows converged over black eyes.

"You're acting like a child. This kind of behavior is going to make people talk, Big Brother," Shadow scolded, selecting a few pickled vegetables and sheets of dried seaweed for garnish. "Whatever your feelings about Rufus, you must keep up appearances –"

"Leave me be, Shade!" Cloud said, fist clenched.

"Or you'll what?" she challenged.

"Don't take it out on her," Zack said at the same time, forcing her ivory chopsticks down. They'd been known to take a stab at each other in the heat of an argument. "This is stupid. Just move over, will you?"

Cloud eyed them, aggrieved. "Let me guess," he muttered, barely moving his lips. "I can look forward to you bullying me for the rest of our rotten lives if I don't do what you want."

"Endless nagging," Aerith agreed cheerfully from the end of the line. "It's three against one. Save yourself the trouble, why don't you?"

She was, Shadow knew, the only person for whom Cloud would bend. His love for her might have rivaled his brother's, but was something he kept secret, deep inside, where only the dweomer could go, and Shadow would never betray him. He closed his eyes, mouth unhappy, and stood up.

Instantly, every person in the room got to his or her feet. With admirable dignity, Cloud walked over to his father's place, removed Fusion's harness, arranged it behind his cushion, and sat.

Zack, Aerith, and Shadow took their new places while the servants, in a dance as old as the hall, quickly and smoothly rearranged plates and cups and bowls and then bowed out of the way.

"Your Majesty," Rufus greeted, bowing from his seat. The air of a tired mentor restarting a game of go with a slow student hung about his person. "Thank you for joining us."

"Mm," Cloud said, a quiet assent. At last, he took his chopsticks from his sleeve and slipped them from the bag. "Forgive me. I've had much on my mind."

"So have we all," Rufus allowed.

Troubled, Shadow sipped her miso. She hadn't meant to gang up on her brother like that, knowing what she did about Chancellor Shinra's plans to send Cloud into exile in order to court Sephiroth's favor. No one had expected Cloud to become king. It couldn't have been more shocking if a meteor had fallen from the sky and crashed into a go board, with the Strifes on one side and the Ministry on the other, scattering the black and white stones everywhere.

She glanced down the table to where the seneschal, Tseng, sat quietly eating his breakfast. Tseng lived in Rufus's pocket. He was also the head of the secret police, of which a portion Shadow herself commanded. Though she may doubt Rufus's intentions, she knew that Rude, Reno, and Cissnei were hers for life. Where, then, did that leave Tseng?

Perhaps the more correct question was, where did Rufus's loyalties truly lie? With the dead king, whose ashes and unburned bone fragments they had sealed in an urn and buried five days ago? With his son and rightful heir, now Wolf King of Midgar? With his killer, the son and hero that no one believed was dead?

Intrigue was a part of court life. Shadow acknowledged it, Zack refused to take part in it, and Cloud had learned enough to survive this long. But now that Fenrir and her eldest brother were gone, Shadow realized that there was no one to shield them from its convoluted layers any longer.

She and her brothers had become the main players, but they possessed only a handful of stones with which to play.

Shadow brought these anxious thoughts with her when she took her place on the wall that night, a borrowed katana tucked in the small of her back. Yoshiyuki was still missing, and her blood boiled at the thought that Genesis might have taken her sword with him, or tossed it into the sea. The smell of the waves reached her there on the wall, wet and cold in spite of the season. Not a star could make it through the thick covering of clouds; before morning, she knew, they would have rain. She sighed. Demons thrived in the darkness, regardless of the weather. Quite possibly, she was in for a wet, busy night.

"Captain Wallace," she greeted, climbing the rickety ladder through the trapdoor that led to the battlements above, followed by the other soldiers coming on shift. "Your report."

The torches picked out highlights his black hair, tightly braided in rows across his scalp, as he turned to bow to her, his helmet under his arm. "The bats're out, Lady Princess. The tengu've driven 'em down with their damn winds."

"We're in for quite the storm, then," she said. Tengu, winged, crow-like demons with unnaturally long noses in the middle of their human faces, claimed the mountains as their domain. Although protective of the high forests, they were dangerous and disruptive like all demons; harbingers of war, they had been unusually active since the fire. Each night, they'd stirred up the winds with their large, mystical fans, bringing the autumn storms a full month early to Midgar.

Captain Wallace snorted, baring his teeth to the night. "You jes' let me know when yer brother's leadin' the party up the mountain to kick some tailfeathers. I'll be there. We're all sick 'n tired a' this rain."

"I'm not sure that's a priority right now, Captain," Shadow said. She leaned over the battlement, peering into the dark. Although she couldn't see the bat demons, she could hear them, the dry, leathery _swoop_ of their wings in the wind. Every once in a while, a pair of eyes gleamed red, but they weren't yet so hungry that they were rushing the wall. The Minister of Lands and the one of Works were busy rebuilding the parts of the city destroyed by the fire, relocating citizens and providing food lines, redistributing children who had lost their families into foster care. The Steward-Marshal and the secret police were continuing investigations into the stolen airship and crew, as well as interviewing the priests of the Jade Temple. Then, there was the Temple itself, desecrated, and its goddess defiled. Worst of all, though no one wanted to discuss it, was Cloud's reckless vow, his geis to bring the kingslayer to justice. How they were to do that, Shadow hadn't a clue –

Wallace's flesh hand descended on her shoulder, a familiarity that interrupted her thoughts and got her full attention. He'd lost his left hand years before in the coal mines of his home, battling an infestation of spider demons, but instead of retiring, he'd left Corel to come to Midgar with his young daughter, where he'd had a gun grafted to the stump of his arm in place of a prosthetic hand. He was scowling, dark eyes intense. "You jes' let me know," he repeated, his gravelly voice a low growl. "I'll be there."

For the moment, they were alone on the wall. Shadow realized that he wasn't talking about tengu. In his own, gruff way, he was sending her a message.

"Thank you, Captain," she said in a normal tone of voice, so that anyone passing would think nothing of this conference at the top of the wall. "I'll tell him."

He did not flinch from the brightness of her eyes. Instead, he nodded at her, stepped back, bowed, put his helmet on his head, and swung himself onto the ladder. She watched him go, gratitude warm in her chest. Barret Wallace had been her father's friend as well as a captain of one of his warbands for as long as she could remember. It looked like their side of the board had just gained another stone.

* * *

_**A/N: **Greetings, Dear Readers!_

_I won't lie; I had the WORST time with this chapter. I wanted to keep things going quickly and not make it boring, but at the same time there's so much info and so many players and worldbuilding and - just, UGH! I know the ending is a little awkward, and I apologize for that. TT_TT I did my best! I do promise that Chapter 2 will come full circle and tie everything together just like Chapter 1 did. Lots of things planned. Should be a wild ride. Hope to see you there!_

_By the way, Zack is funny. He's my new favorite character to write. :3_

_Reviewer Thanks! **Lady Aurora Nocturne **(Thank you thank you thank you! It's not possible to say that enough. LOL. THANK YOU!__)._

_I hope everyone had a great weekend! Won't you please review before you move on to the next thing? I'll love you forever!_

_Anne out!_


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